"Hey, how was your day?" I gushed, practically prancing into the kitchen in our high rise condo, my new heels clicking against the floor as I went. I felt incredibly sexy in my short navy dress, and I felt like I stood out starkly from out all gray and white kitchen, demanding Josh's attention. I swept my glossy hair over my shoulder and hoisted myself up so I was sitting on the counter, hoping that I looked coy and sensual. I know that I hadn't always been wildly in love with Josh, however we were engaged now and I had made the choice to say yes and now I was making a choice to give him the best chance I could. Besides, he wasn't truly a bad guy. He was so polite, and so kind to everyone we met, and he was always smiling. At first I had sensed that maybe there was something not quite right about him, but since I had been unable to pinpoint it it was time to brush it aside. Plus, he had this amazing apartment and insisted that I didn't have to work if I didn't want to. Not to mention that I enjoyed the way he looked in a suit.

"Where is dinner?" Josh demanded bluntly. His kept his back turned to me, staring down at his phone. Clearly my dress didn't have the instant impact I was expecting. He was always on his cell, it would've frustrated me if I hadn't grown up with a father who the exact same way.

"I thought we could go out." I said happily, sliding off the counter. "Somewhere nice to celebrate."

Josh finally turned around to look at me. Those calm blue eyes stayed on my face and his neutral expression didn't change when he saw me. I expected his jaw to drop at all the exposed skin and his hands to reach for my slender waist in an act of enthusiasm. I hoped that his forever collected behavior would slip, even just for a brief moment, in an act of lust and he would say something appreciative. I wanted that wild passion that I read about in books, even just for a second. But he just crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter.

"What are you wearing, Camila?" he said. His tone shifted to one I had not heard before and couldn't label immediately. All I understood was that he wasn't particularly excited.

"Do you like it?" I asked in a sultry tone, slowly turning around so he could see the slit on the side and just how short the dress really was. He didn't say anything for a while so I added, "Come on, I made a reservation at the new little Italian restaurant downtown."

I still had that silly, optimistic smile on my face when a loud cracking noise whipped through the air and the pain rushed through my cheek, leaving me breathless.

I cradled my cheek instinctively, trying to soothe the wild stinging sensation as my mind whirled away. I clung to the counter to keep my body upright as I desperately tried to catch my breath and my thoughts. My fiancé was standing in front of me, the only one in the room. He was still looking as calm as ever and though the impact had felt like a slap he couldn't have done it. His chest wasn't rising or falling quickly, his eyes weren't clouded with fury and his hands weren't clenched into tight fists in an attempt to rein in his anger. He looked the same way he always did, whether he was proposing to me or dealing with a frustrating client. Passive, gentle, and prepared. Nothing could ever phase him.

But I was at a complete loss for words.

"You look like a slut." He stated, his words not matching his casual tone. It was like he was ordering coffee. "I asked you to make us dinner so we could have a quiet night in and you blatantly disobeyed me."

"I just thought-" I sputtered.

"No, you didn't fucking think, Camila. Then you came out here dressed like a cheap whore and you expect me to want to take you out?"

"I thought you would like it." I managed, feeling tears pool in my eyes from shock and pain. This was the man I was going to marry. Why did he feel he had the right to say such awful things to me?

Unfortunately, his words were not the only destructive force he was using against me.

Cold fingers circled my throat, squeezing ever so slowly. He had lunged for me so quickly I didn't even have time to react or defend myself. I could still wheeze awkwardly around his hold, but it hurt significantly to do so and I knew he was more than able to apply more pressure and cut off my airways completely. And without air I would lose consciousness. This was a threat, a clear warning of what he was capable of.

"Now, I want you to take off this disgusting dress, put on something acceptable and start making us a proper dinner." He demanded. Now his words came out in a hiss, finally showing his rage. He released his painful grip.

I just stood there, stricken as I ran my hands over my sensitive throat. My knees were weak and I was struggling to keep my body upright as I took gulping breaths into my lungs. Josh's calm eyes stared back at me, waiting for me to do something or say something. But I couldn't. I couldn't even wrap my mind around what had just happened and there was no way that I would be able to form words.

Yesterday, during a gala he had slid down onto one knee and proposed to me in front of hundreds of people. He smiled up at me, looking happy, but not overly so. Like he was making a choice he was certain about, a decision he had rolled over in his mind a hundred times. He was the most refined man I had ever met, so careful and articulate with his words, never losing his temper or acting rashly. And he had asked me to marry him in the most poetic way.

But my face and throat were now throbbing and tears were pouring down my cheeks as I sucked in gasping breaths.

"I'm getting tired of this game, Camila. You will go change out of these clothes immediately. Do not make me any angrier. I don't want to have to hurt you."

"Josh I-"

"Go, now."

And I did. I had previously that I was glued to the spot, but the threat of another hit landing on my skin was fuel to get me out of that kitchen and into my bedroom. With the door closed behind me I sobbed and sobbed. I wanted to stay in that room for hours until I felt like I could cry no more. I wanted to call the police and tell them what had happened so someone could come and defend me against my fiancé who ran a significant portion of his governmental field. I wanted to curl up on the bed and force myself to believe that it had all been a dream, that my sweet Josh could never do such an awful thing to me. Not so soon after he professed his love for me.

But I did what he said. The threat of him becoming more furious with me was terrifying. I changed my clothes, forced myself to stop crying and carefully wandered into the kitchen, moving around him like a terrified little mouse.

And he was just sitting in front of the television so casually I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing. Because a man like that could not honestly be malicious, could he? He loved me, he would never hurt me. I would marry him and have a beautiful life filled with more nice cars, comfortable living, and lavish vacations.

As I watched myself cooking in my beautiful kitchen I wanted to scream at myself. I desperately tried to tell myself that things would not get better. This was not a onetime occurrence. This was a warning sign of even worse things to come and I needed to get out as soon as possible. But no matter how loud I shouted, no matter how intently I tried to reach myself, I continued to prepare a dinner for a man who would become much worse than I would ever expect.

My head snapped up with a groan. I was so exhausted I must've finally given up and fallen asleep on my folded arms. But being awake in these unfamiliar surroundings after such a terrible dream I was immediately alert, no time for grogginess or the aches and pains from sleeping in an awkward position or the dryness that coated my mouth from dehydration. My adrenaline was still pumping despite my brief doze, always ready for an attack or for Alistair to slither through the door and state that he was actually taking me away. Taking me back to that awful man.

The door handle rattled again- obviously the initial sound that had woken me up- and I stood up, ready to give Alistair one hell of a fight. I might've been in the wrong. He might have every right to take me back down to the states and let me fight my own battles against the tyrant. But I wasn't going to give in, not yet.

The door opened and I gritted my teeth tightly.

Then Sophie's elfin face appeared in the opening. Her eyes were timid and flighty, looking more anxious than I had ever seen her but relief pooled in my stomach regardless.

"Sophie? My God, what are you doing here?" I gasped, already running towards her so I could throw my arms around her.

"Be quiet." She hissed out, "We need to leave. Now."

****Hyped on 1500 reads and all the new readers and voters i have received. You guys are amazing, I honestly think I have the best readers in the world. Please keep voting and commenting, it motivates me so much! Next chapter will be coming soon as well!****